


All the Time in the World

by jowritesthings



Series: Soulmate September 2020 [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (background qpr dukeceit n romantic roceit), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Background Relationships, Dorks in Love, Everyone Is Gay, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Food, Friendship/Love, Good Parent Deceit | Janus Sanders, Idiots in Love, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Logic | Logan Sanders-centric, Love Confessions, M/M, Morality | Patton Sanders is a Sweetheart, One Shot, Parent Deceit | Janus Sanders, Platonic Soulmates, Queerplatonic Relationships, Remus being Remus, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Soulmates, Swearing, Sympathetic Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Sympathetic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Sympathetic Logic | Logan Sanders, Sympathetic Morality | Patton Sanders, Trans Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, especially Logan, queerplatonic soulmates, sympathetic everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26283256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jowritesthings/pseuds/jowritesthings
Summary: For as long as Logan can remember, his soulmate timer has read zero. Only, he's never met his soulmate. (Or has he?) Conclusion: he does not actually have a soulmate. (Or does he?)*Day Two of tsshipmonth2020 (on Tumblr)'s Soulmate September! Prompt: There is a timer that counts down to when you will meet your soulmate.*I own nothing. I am not in any way associated with Thomas Sanders or Sanders Sides. I merely wrote the plot and the story. Do not copy or repost to other websites or other places.
Relationships: Logic | Logan Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Soulmate September 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906819
Comments: 9
Kudos: 92





	All the Time in the World

**Author's Note:**

> Day two, guys! This one’s two days late because yesterday morning-ish my dumb ass decided to pull a sickfic, except I’m lonely and had to hold back my own hair :’) Never fear, though! I am entirely stuck in my bed now, so I’ll have plenty of time to write more stuff. :’D
> 
> Anyways, do enjoy! Love y'all <3

Logan’s is not been a typical birth.

His mother is taken to the hospital in an ambulance, having gone into premature labor almost a month early while at work. His father comes racing in just in time to see his wife wheeled off for an emergency cesarean.

When she comes back out, there is a tiny baby boy in a cradle beside her, a child that she has brought to life—even as she is barely hanging on to life herself. The as-of-yet unnamed baby is alive and just well enough that he sits off to the side, wailing and hiccuping, as his mother struggles to stay alive through a blood transfusion and his father begs her to survive.

His mother’s condition eventually stabilizes, and she comes out from under the anesthesia just long enough to rasp out the name chosen for the baby boy—Logan. She quickly succumbs to a well-deserved sleep, and her spouse remains with her, while for the moment the boy is left to the nurses to care for.

It isn’t until he is brought to the nursery with the other babies that one nurse realizes the timer on his tiny infantile wrist reads zero.

* * *

As a child, Logan does not understand what this zero means, or why his mother and daddy take him to all of the big doctors in white coats, or why his teachers give pitying looks and his classmates give mean taunts.

“Out of time,” someone says. But, but he just learned how to tell time with the big hand and the little hand and the sec-owned hand, and the clock on the mantel is still ticking.

“Alone,” someone laughs. No, Logan has his mother and daddy, and they’re happy just like that because three is a magic number!

“Soulless,” someone accuses. What’s a Soul? He’s a Logan. And he likes being a Logan, even if that means he’s not a Soul.

Mother says nothing, staring blankly at the other mothers in the preschool picking up their children. She only pulls him up by his arm, dusts him off, and brings him home, saying not a word about the crusted tears on his cheeks.

But....

“You’re special,” Daddy promises, shushing him gently and wiping away his tears with careful gloved hands. “Sometimes others might say it and mean bad things, but it’s all good, Logie-bear, I promise. You’re so special and smart. You’re my special Logie-bear.”

See? He’s a Logan. And Daddy says he’s a good Logan. So that’s all that matters, even if the other kids make him cry like a baby. Daddy says crying’s okay, that he isn’t a baby, that he’s special. Logan is _special_. Isn’t that cool?

* * *

By the time he’s reached middle school, Logan knows what it all means, and it isn’t so cool after all. He knows what he is, and he knows the words people whisper behind his back.

Everyone is born with a timer on their wrist, counting down to when they meet their soulmate—the person destined to change their life forever, be it through the power of love or the power of friendship or the power of family or through the power of whatever cheesy thing the movies are showing this week. Some people meet their soulmates as children, some meet their soulmates on their deathbed.

Timers can change as plans and people do, so it’s a rather pointless system, if you ask Logan. Especially since some people’s timers keep dragging out and dragging out until they finally blink out. Some people never meet their soulmate.

Logan, however, is an odd anomaly that nobody has ever seen. He was seemingly born with a timer already at zero, and none of the doctors and specialists his parents take him to manage to puzzle out what this means.

Perhaps this could mean it is a familial bond with his mother, some suggest. But those are rare, and the two of them are not particularly close, so Logan privately thinks that this theory is utter baloney.

Perhaps this could mean that he’s aromantic, others suggest. But plenty of aromantics out there have platonic and queerplatonic soulmates, and besides, Logan is just starting to discover how pretty boys are, so he quickly dismisses this as well.

Nobody really knows for certain. All they know is that his timer is out of time. All Logan knows is that big, black zero tattooed across his wrist.

So. The timer on his wrist has run out, and there is no soulmate in sight. 0:00.00. The timer on his wrist has run out. Or maybe he never even had any time on it at all. So it is.

This is fine, Logan tells himself clinically as he lies awake at night. It simply means that he doesn’t have a soulmate, or that his soulmate is dead, or something of that sort.

It’s not like it matters all that much.

(It matters, it _matters_ —)

Plenty of people have lost soulmates, and plenty of people don’t even settle with their soulmates. It is quite common for soulmates to simply remain friends or acquaintances. It’ll just be like that, like not settling with one’s soulmate—except he just never had one to settle with in the first place.

And this is _fine_. He can still find himself a romantic partner if he so chooses, and maybe if the kids at school stop gossiping about him he can make some friends, or, you know what, he doesn’t even _need_ a partner or friends, anyway. He just wants to go to school and get good grades and go to university to become someone cool and science-y, oh, and maybe get a pet hamster.

But all the same, Logan looks up at the stars from out his bedroom window, and he wonders how it would feel to know that someone out there matched him, someone out there for him, someone out there looking up at the same stars even as they are worlds apart.

* * *

In high school, his schoolmates are better. There is no more teasing, and there are plenty of apologies as they realize how cruel they were, but Logan politely refrains from making friends, remembering just how easily their hatred turned on him as a child.

And as his peers slowly but surely start meeting their soulmates, there is still the ever-present reminder that they have what Logan will never, what Logan can never.

Logan maintains his grades and his emotions, keeping both squarely in check. All interactions with his classmates are strictly centered around class projects and tutoring. When not in class or at home, he tucks himself into a small corner of the library, hiding from the silence of his peers and the growing chasm between his parents.

High school is when his mother finally decides she has had enough of him.

She disappears under the pretense of an out-of-town trip with some girlfriends, and when the weekend is over she just...doesn’t come back.

The divorce papers show up on their doorstep a week later.

Logan watches his father’s face crumple. He feels a stab of bitterness as he watches his father read through tears and sign the spotted, drippy forms. He knows this is his fault. He _knows_.

He already doesn’t have a soulmate of his own, and now he’s driven off his father’s soulmate, too.

“It isn’t your fault,” Dad reassures him weakly as the two cuddle that night for the first time in years. “It was between her and I. Sometimes things just don’t work out. It isn’t your fault, Logie-bear.”

He repeats the phrase like a mantra, until it rings through Logan’s ears and means nothing.

Logan twists to look up at his father. “You know that it is not your fault, either, Dad.”

Dad smiles down at him, wet and weary, but his mismatched eyes are rimmed red, so full of tears and yet so empty all at the same time. “Oh, but I think it is.”

Logan wants to contradict him, wants to call him out and say it’s his mom’s fault for abandoning the two of them like this. He wants to repeat that Dad shouldn’t blame himself. But to do so would be hypocritical, when Logan blames himself as well.

And so the two sit on the couch, in tense silence, hugging each other as each other’s only lifeline, and Logan thinks, maybe not having a soulmate isn’t so bad after all, if it means he doesn’t have to go through this.

* * *

Logan’s Uncle Remus comes around a few days after the divorce papers do, and he announces in his crackly-weird voice that he’ll be crashing on the couch for a while. Dad hems and haws over it and pretends to be annoyed, but Logan privately thinks he seems relieved to have Remus’ voice to fill the silences. Logan and his dad have never been all that good at talking, anyway.

Of course, Uncle Remus isn’t _actually_ Logan’s uncle. He’s just Dad’s best friend from when they were in college. He shows up in town every once in a while, though usually he’s off travelling who knows where and doing who knows what.

Remus is...weird. But as somewhat of an oddity himself, Logan can’t exactly judge. Especially not when he finds that Remus is a CSI and extremely enthusiastic about true crime. The two of them quickly establish a routine of watching Buzzfeed Unsolved together after school, and sometimes they even manage to drag his father out of his study to watch, too.

It is just about a month later, while Logan is preparing snacks for a Friday afternoon marathon, that the doorbell rings.

Logan frowns, cocking his head slightly. He can’t recall his father or Remus mentioning anything about having anyone over, and he certainly has no one to invite over himself.

Unless....

Sucking in a sharp breath, Logan freezes in realization. Could it be his mother? Could she be back—to beg forgiveness, or to add insult to injury, or...?

The doorbell rings again, and a loud crashing sound echoes through the house before Uncle Remus is tearing down the hallway, a blur as he passes the kitchen. “ _Shit_! I got it!”

Bewildered, Logan hears the sound of the front door being unlatched and yanked open. “Babe! Baby cheeks!” Remus’ voice echoes through the house.

A few moments later, Logan’s dad pads down the hallway, holding his reading glasses in one hand and blearily rubbing at his eyes with the other. He pauses in the kitchen doorway to nod at Logan before continuing. “Remus, what on Earth....”

Deciding that it should probably be safe to venture out into the hallway without one of the kitchen knives, Logan puts the bowl of popcorn down on the table next to the carrot and celery sticks (Remus always complains, but proper nutrition is _necessary_ ). Then he carefully ventures out into the hallway to see what commotion is brewing.

Remus stands in the front doorway, giving an unfamiliar teen what Logan believes is colloquially referred to as a “noogie.” Leaning against the porch railing behind them is a light brown-skinned man Logan vaguely recognizes from photographs as Virgil, another of his father’s old college friends and Remus’ soulmate.

“I am _not_ baby cheeks anymore!” the boy huffs, struggling in Remus’ grip, although he’s smiling all the while.

“Eh, once a baby cheeks, always a baby cheeks, ya li’l chipmunk,” Remus dismisses, grinning like a madman.

Logan turns to his father to gauge how he should be reacting to the two unexpected guests.

To his surprise, Dad is smiling, actually _smiling_ , for the first time since long before Logan’s mother left. Not one of those sarcastic little half-smirks he often shoots in Remus’ direction, not one of those false reassuring smiles he forces on when Logan is around, but a full-on genuine smile.

“Remus, do you mind?” Dad says. He rolls his eyes, mock-annoyed, and Logan is glad to see some of his old flair shining out once more. “I’d love for you to move so I can talk to Virgil.”

“Maybe I don’t, maybe I do!” Remus cackles, but the teen uses this as a distraction and takes the opportunity to finally escape from his grip.

Giggling, the teen darts further into the house. Upon looking up and meeting eyes with Logan, though, he pauses, and the brilliant beam on his face diminishes to a smaller, warmer smile. “Hi!” he says, breathless from laughter.

Logan, however is breathless for an entirely different reason.

The teenager looks to be about his age, although slightly shorter. His brown eyes are bright with mirth and, and the light coming in through the windows shines off his tan skin and his shock of black hair. His cheeks are indeed somewhat round, and his braces and the gap between his front teeth certainly call to mind the idea of a chipmunk. It isn’t meant to be an insult at all—to be frank, the teen is...Logan is loath to use the word ‘adorable’, but it is all that seems to fit the boy smiling and sticking out his hand for a shake.

“H-hello,” he manages to stammer, reaching out with a suddenly-clammy palm and shaking the boy’s hand.

Behind the teen, Logan’s father moves beside Remus in the doorway, exchanging hugs and conversation with Virgil, and Remus kisses Virgil’s cheek and latches onto his hand. But Logan is more focused on other things in the moment—more specifically, on other people. One other person.

“I’m Patton,” the boy introduces himself genially. “And you must be Logan! Pa told me all about how we used to play together as babies!”

“...We did?” Logan is still shaking Patton’s hand, he should really stop shaking Patton’s hand. He stops shaking Patton’s hand. “I am afraid that I do not recall such a thing.”

“That’s okay! I don’t really remember, either,” Patton admits sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck. “Pa and I moved away when I was, like, three, so that’s probably why.” He brightens once more. “But that’s fine! We’re moving back here for good, so I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to make lots of new memories!”

Patton’s hand falls from where it previously was resting at the nape of his neck, and the motion catches Logan’s eye. He manages to catch a glimpse of what looks like a zero on his wrist, and oh. So Patton’s already met his soulmate, too. So he’s most likely unavailable, then.

Something Logan didn’t think he had in him breaks.

It doesn’t matter, he reminds himself impatiently. Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, _doesn’t matter_. If he says it enough, he’ll start to mean it. Logan has no soulmate. He has no soulmate, no romantic partners, no friends, no acquaintances, and it’s all the better that way.

“It is a pleasure to meet you again,” Logan says formally. “Would you like to come in? Uncle Remus and I were just preparing to watch Buzzfeed Unsolved together, although if you would like to join us we can always watch something that would be more suited to your tastes.”

“I’d love to!” Patton enthuses. “Although I do gotta say, I’m not the biggest fan of Unsolved. It’s scary to think about real-life bad guys.” He pauses and thinks. “Have you ever watched Buzzfeed’s series on the Sims?”

Logan furrows his eyebrows in thought. “I do not believe so. What is the ‘Sims’?”

Hands flying up to his cheeks, Patton gasps. “You don’t know the Sims?”

Feeling somewhat foolish, Logan shakes his head. “I generally do not keep up with modern trends,” he admits.

“That’s okay! Boy, we have lots to talk about then!” chirps Patton, bouncing past Logan and further into the house. He pauses, cheeks darkening slightly in hue. “Oh, wait. I don’t know where I’m going. Silly me.” He giggles, then turns back to meet Logan’s wide blue eyes once more. “Would you mind showing me around?”

Overwhelmed, Logan can’t help but look back to his father for assistance. He hasn’t spoken so much with another person his age—or another person at all, really—in years, quite possibly.

His dad is of no use, merely smirking at him. “Go on,” he shoos, while Remus waggles his eyebrows at Logan in a manner that makes it clear his ogling had very much been noticed.

Logan whirls around, cheeks heated. “Right this way, Patton.”

* * *

Patton, Patton, _Patton_.

As he and his father Virgil move in across the street, Patton rapidly becomes a part of Logan’s life, unintentionally yet thoroughly.

At home? Patton comes over bringing smiles and cookies—which, isn’t it the older residents who are supposed to bring food to the new neighbors?

At school? Patton enrolls just in time to spend senior year at Logan’s high school, and he enlists Logan to be his guide around campus. Logan, who is becoming increasingly worried over his inability to say no to Patton’s big doe eyes.

It’s ridiculous, really, the whole of it is.

Logan tells himself that it’s just because he hasn’t had a friend his age before. He’s only overreacting because he doesn’t know how to properly maintain friendship. Yes, that must be it.

~~A part of him thinks that it’s something else, but that part of him isn’t allowed to see the light of day.~~

Patton is—dear lord—Patton is _painting Logan’s fingernails_ one afternoon, Logan is _letting_ Patton paint his fingernails, when the topic of soulmates finally comes up.

The two of them sit in the tub in Patton’s bathroom (Logan insists on the bathroom, so if any spills occur they can easily be cleaned. Patton insists on the bathtub, because he’s Patton). It isn’t exactly the most comfortable place, especially for two teen boys, but they make do.

Patton gently grasps Logan’s hand in his own, painting a layer of midnight blue on the last of his nails. “All-righty! Now we just have to let those dry!” He goes to set Logan’s hand down on the edge of the tub, then pauses, twisting it up slightly to look at it.

What—oh. Logan’s thoughts sour somewhat as he realizes that Patton is looking at the soulmate timer on his wrist—or, rather, the rigid zero in its stead.

“So you’ve already met your soulmate too?” Patton smiles.

“Ah—no,” Logan says awkwardly. “I, erm...I do not actually have a soulmate.”

“Oh.” Patton’s smile wavers. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring anything bad up.”

“It is quite all right,” Logan reassures. “It’s natural to be curious of such things. You do not need to apologize for curiosity. Besides.” He reaches up to adjust his glasses, then freezes in midair, remembering the still-drying nail polish on his nails. “I have had almost eighteen years to come to terms with this fact, and it says nothing about whether I end up in any relationships in my life, so it is not a metaphorical ‘sore spot’.”

“Well, that’s good,” Patton says, although his enthusiasm has decidedly lessened.

Logan doesn’t think he likes that, so he attempts to engage Patton in conversation once more. “What about you? Have you met your soulmate yet, Patton?”

“Oh! Yeah, I have!” Patton grins. He laughs, face flushed, as he shows off the zero on his own arm. Shameless, nonchalant, just as Logan wishes he could be. “I don’t remember it, but I know I’ve met them. It was when I was really young, though, and it must’ve just been in passing.”

“I see.” Logan nods. He wonders which is worse—knowing there is no soulmate out there for you to meet, or knowing that you’ve encountered them, cannot remember them, and likely will never encounter them again.

“Okay! This layer should be dry by now.” Patton scoops up Logan’s hands once more. “Let’s add some little white and yellow dots to be stars!”

Well. Patton seems to be doing well enough for himself, Logan notes, watching the eager boy in front of him. And if neither of them are in any danger of meeting a soulmate, then the two of them can remain together, correct?

Logan quirks his mouth up in a half-smile. Patton catches the movement and coos, booping his nose and then giggling at the yellow polish now stuck on the tip of Logan’s nose.

Yes, perhaps the two of them can at least remain together, sans soulmate and standing strong.

...Although, ahem. Perhaps they can accomplish the ‘standing strong’ part later, once they get out of the bathtub.

* * *

Fall passes quickly, then winter comes. Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s are spent at Virgil’s, a mish-mash of Logan and his dad, Virgil and Patton, Remus, and Remus’ brother Roman, who pops by just for a moment but ends up staying solely to chat with Logan’s dad, no matter what Dad tries to say to the otherwise. (Logan, Patton, Remus, and Virgil laugh over how oblivious the two of them are, and even if Logan doesn’t quite know how to feel about Roman yet, he’s glad to see his father looking and feeling so much better.)

Soon enough, Logan’s eighteenth birthday is just around the bend, and, well, that’s supposed to be a special one, wouldn’t it? So he supposes that it might be fun to see if Patton would like to go to the science museum with him. Not as a date, of course, not as a date. He truly doesn’t feel that way about Patton.

...Or, at least, he doesn’t _think_ he does. And he _knows_ that Patton doesn’t feel that way about him.

It’s a bright, blustery Saturday afternoon, and Logan stands in front of the door to Patton’s house, steeling himself to knock and ask Patton.

He’s pulling his hand back to knock on the door when it swings open.

Patton is looking down at his hands, determinedly pulling on his gloves, so he doesn’t see Logan standing there, frozen in surprise. Walking out of the door, he runs directly into Logan.

“Oh!” Patton very nearly screeches. He jumps backward as Logan stumbles back a bit himself. “Logan! Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!”

“It—” Logan is still largely frozen, and it isn’t because of the cold weather. “It is all right, Patton.”

“Here—come in, come in,” Patton ushers, his cheeks darkened in embarrassment. “I was just about to head over to your house, actually!” He laughs. “Funny, huh?”

“And I was just about to knock on the door,” Logan responded, a wry smile on his lips. He could admittedly see some humor in the occurrence. “I had something to ask of you.”

“Whatcha wanna ask?” Patton asked, pulling off his outer winter layers and gesturing for Logan to do the same. “If you’d like, we can go in the kitchen and make some hot chocolate. Pa actually remembered to buy almond milk this time!”

“That sounds most excellent,” Logan responded, hanging his coat up on the rack by the front door. He slipped off his boots and padded after Patton into the kitchen.

The two of them make their cocoa, exchanging comfortable banter as they do so. This is by far not the first time that they’ve made cocoa together this winter, and at this point it’s almost like a well-practiced dance routine, darting back and forth between refrigerator and pantry, pantry and stove, stove and countertop, countertop and kitchen table. Patton almost drops the marshmallows no less than three times, but Logan is right there to catch them for him.

“Wow, Lo-lo,” Patton finally comments as Logan catches the marshmallows a fourth time. “Those marshmallows must really love you!”

Logan raises an eyebrow as he sets the bag back on the counter, a nice, good distance from the edge this time. “Marshmallows do not feel anything,” he tries to tell Patton, but the half-Filipino boy shushes him.

“Ask me why, Logan, asks me why.” Patton is practically vibrating, and Logan sighs, because he knows that means he is about to be subject to another of Patton’s horrendous puns or dad jokes. But he humors Patton nevertheless.

“Why do the marshmallows love me, Patton?” he asks, resigned, but Patton barely waits for him to finish speaking before answering.

“Because they keep _falling_ for you,” Patton gushes out, grinning mischievously.

Logan groans good-naturedly, but there’s a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he sits down at the table.

The two sip at their hot cocoa in silence for a few moments, before both open their mouths to speak at the same time.

“Patton, I would like to—”

“Logan, I was thinking—”

They both pause mid-sentence, and Patton laughs. “Go ahead, Lo-lo. You go first! You did come all the way over here, after all.”

Logan nods. “Very well, then.” He takes one more sip of his cocoa before setting it down at the table and looking at Patton, hoping he doesn’t look as nervous as he feels. “You see, my birthday is next Friday, and I was wondering if—”

“Wait, next Friday?” Patton interrupts him, looking surprised. “Like, Friday, January fifteenth?”

“Indeed.” Logan frowns. “Why do you ask?”

“That’s my birthday too,” Patton explains, grinning from ear to ear. He bursts into laughter. “Gosh, that was what I was going to ask you about too, kiddo!”

“We are the same age. You cannot call me ‘kiddo’,” Logan says, scandalized, but this only makes Patton laugh more.

“Oh yeah? Well, what time of day were you born then, hmm, mister?” Patton teases.

“Five fifty-four in the evening,” Logan recites.

“Oh.” Patton’s smile disappears, and for a moment, Logan is worried, but it just seems that he’s lost in thought. “You know, Lo, my dad had me at right around the same time. I don’t remember when he said, exactly, but I sure remember him complaining that I interrupted his dinner.” He giggles, but quickly sobers up.

“Is...is everything all right, Patton?” Logan asks cautiously.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine! I just....” Patton looks down. “I actually met my soulmate while I was in the hospital, as a baby. Pa said my timer looked awful short when I was born, but he was so tired that he didn’t really think too much of it until it had already hit zero by the next day.”

That’s possible? Logan pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he thinks. Then...could he possibly be....

“He thinks my soulmate was one of the other babies or kids in the hospital,” Patton continues, “but we were never able to figure out who, cuz your...uh, your mom nearly...you know. So he kinda just focused on keeping me alive and keeping an eye on your dad.”

Patton looks up at Logan with hopeful eyes. “Are you certain that you were born with a zero on your timer? Because if not, then maybe....”

The thought hangs in the air between them, burning hot and freezing cold all at once.

Logan swallows thickly. God, he _wants_ it to be true. But it...there are simply too many variables and possibilities.

“I...don’t know,” he finally says aloud, hating how Patton’s shoulders slump. “My father informed me that no one glimpsed my timer before it had hit zero, so we all just...assumed. I can ask him to clarify again, but...there just isn’t any conclusive evidence.” He shrugs.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Patton says morosely.

The two sit in silence once more, before Logan nervously breaks it.

“...Say, Patton, I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to the museum of science next Saturday,” he says carefully. “Your dad is welcome to come, of course, and Remus as well. Afterwards, my father is planning to make a celebratory dinner, since Friday is my birthday.”

“Oh!” Patton’s eyes light up a little, and Logan can’t help but feel relieved at the sight. “I’d love to!”

“Excellent,” Logan says, pleased.

“Will there be cows there?” Patton asks.

Logan blinks. “Excuse me, what?”

Oh, dear, Patton has that glint in his eye again. “You know.” He wriggles his eyebrows up and down. “Since we’re going to a _moo_ seum.”

“I rescind my invitation,” Logan says, straight-faced as Patton jokingly pouts and begs him not to. And he has a lot to think about when he goes home, but in the moment, he just wants to spend as much time as he can with Patton.

* * *

Logan finally works up the courage to ask his father about his birth Sunday night after supper.

He lingers in the doorway of his dad’s study until the dark-haired man finally notices him.

“Logan?” Dad raises an eyebrow, turning away from his work. “Can I help you with something?”

“Yes, I....” Logan licks his lips nervously. His mother has been a sore subject for months now, but Logan’s been doing better, Dad’s been doing better, this should be fine.

“I would like to inquire about the circumstances of my birth,” Logan says delicately.

Dad goes still. After a moment, though, he sighs heavily, getting up from his desk. “All right, but I don’t know what there is to tell you that I haven’t already.” He goes over and sits on the couch usually reserved for his clients, and gestures for Logan to sit next to him.

“You know, you’ve always been ahead of schedule,” Logan’s father begins as he always has, a rueful smile on his face. “Early to walk, early to talk, early to read, and now you’re early to every appointment and every encounter. But before all of that, you were early to your own birth.

“We were getting ready for you, but we hadn’t expected you so soon,” Dad explains, his mismatched brown and gray eyes glazing over as he reminisces. “Your mother was a few days from going on maternity leave at work. I had only just put in for paternity leave with my boss when I got the call that you were on your way.

“When I got to the hospital, I barely was able to see her before they were wheeling her back to do a c-section. You’re so smart, I’m sure you know what a breech birth is, right?”

Logan nods.

“When she came back, you were by her side, and I was so happy to see that you were okay, but...your mother wasn’t so okay.” The smile on Logan’s father’s face fades. “We weren’t sure that she was going to make it for a long while there, and regardless of whether she survived or not, she wouldn’t be able to have any more children.

“One of the on-duty nurses offered to take you to the nursery with the other babies, that way you would be safe and cared for while I focused on helping your mother.” Logan’s dad pauses. “While you were being examined in the nursery, that was when someone realized your timer read what it does...although we weren’t told about that until the next day.”

“Do you think....” Logan collects his thoughts before continuing with his sentence. “Were you or anyone else, by any chance, able to see what my timer read when I was born?”

Dad shakes his head, and Logan’s heart sinks. “I’m sorry, son. There was so much happening that I don’t remember catching a glimpse.”

Logan nods mutely. Then, quick to change subjects before the silence stretches on too long, he speaks up again. “Patton has confirmed that he can to go to the museum with me this coming Friday. He has also informed me that his father and Remus have offered to come with as chaperones.”

“Excellent.” His dad sounds relieved at the change in conversation topic. “That gives Roman and I some alone time...to make your birthday dinner, of course,” he adds hastily when Logan gives him a suspicious look. “Don’t you have homework or something to do, Logan?” He makes a shooing motion with one two-toned hand.

“Indeed.” Logan doesn’t, not really, but he can tell his father wants to end the conversation, and to be honest, he’s feeling similarly. “I think I will go finish my homework and then go to sleep for the night.”

Logan stands and walks over to the door. At the last second, though, he pauses. “Dad, why...why do you think Mom is your soulmate, when she...?”

The question hangs in the air for just long enough that Logan begins to regret asking it.

“I...don’t know, son. I wish I could lie and tell you that I know for sure, but....” His father shrugs, helpless, and there is another beat of silence. He fixes his gaze on Logan, piercing and warm at the same time. “But I like to think that it’s because she changed my life for the better when she gave me you.”

Logan isn’t sure how to respond to something so blatantly heartfelt from his normally cool and collected father, so he stays quiet on the subject, mulling it over in his head.

“Goodnight, Dad,” Logan finally says. “...I love you.”

“Goodnight, Logan,” his father says, looking mildly surprised. They don’t need to say it, not really, so they usually don’t. They both know it’s an implied thing. “I love you too, son.” He smiles.

Logan isn’t usually one for such outward displays of emotion, but this is his _father_ —his father who forgives him, even as they both struggle and make their own mistakes, his father who stays by him, even as his mother left, his father who loves him, no matter what.

Logan smiles back.

* * *

The Friday of Logan and Patton’s birthday is cloudy and overcast, with the threat of cold, sleeting rain or possibly even snow on the horizon, but it matters little, since most of it is to be spent inside—first at school, then at the museum, then at Logan’s house for dinner.

Virgil and Remus pick Logan and Patton up from school, shuffling the four of them to the museum of natural science downtown. Virgil insists on driving, and Remus uses this as an excuse to sit shotgun and blast whatever weird music is currently to his taste. He and Virgil bicker about volume the entire way there, while Logan and Patton sit in the back, exchanging knowing glances.

At the museum, Logan tries to pull out money to pay for everyone’s tickets, since he _is_ the one who invited them, after all. But Uncle Remus quickly tells him to put the money away.

“For the birthday boys!” he crows, roughly ruffling Logan and Patton’s hair as the person behind the desk counts out change. “Oh, and you too, I guess.” He winks exaggeratedly at Virgil.

Virgil smiles wryly. “Oh, gee, thanks.” But when Remus drags him into a ridiculous bear hug, he concedes, laughing.

Their tickets paid for, Patton bounces up to the map laid out on the wall. Logan goes to follow him, but a hand on his shoulder pulls him back. Turning around, he sees Virgil, a half-serious look on his face, with Remus right behind him.

“Yeah yeah, y’all are cute together,” Virgil inclines his head between Logan and Patton, “but do I have to give you the Talk?”

Logan blinks, befuddled. “What talk?”

“The sexytimes talk!” Remus interrupts, grinning like the Cheshire cat, and oh, oh god, no, Logan does not need to hear this from _Patton’s dad_ and _Patton’s dad’s queerplatonic partner_. It was bad enough when his own father sat him down for that particular conversation.

“I don’t believe that to be necessary. Sir,” Logan tacks on, stammering. “I think that I am...adequately knowledgeable in those area. U-uh, just in a clinical manner, o-of course.” He looks around desperately for a way to escape the situation. “I, ahem. I shall go catch up with Patton now, if you will excuse me.”

“Wrap it up!” Remus screeches gleefully as Logan speedwalks over to Patton, grabs his hand, and yanks him away.

“Whoa!” Patton follows behind him without much of a struggle. “I-is everything okay, Lo-lo?”

“Perfectly,” Logan says primly, desperately fighting to maintain his composure and keep his blushing to a minimum. “I simply am...very eager to see the dinosaur exhibit.”

“Oh!” Patton laughs. “I guess it’s a pity we can’t dino _soar_ on over there, then.”

Logan rolls his eyes at the pun, but when Patton doesn’t stop holding his hand, he allows a tiny, amused smile to dance across his face.

What would it be like, if Patton truly were his soulmate? Would it be like this, but nicer? Or would it even make a change at all?

As Logan and Patton pull each other from exhibit, talking animatedly and still holding hands, he decides that he would really rather not think about the possibility. Besides, Logan quite likes things as they are.

* * *

Dinner that night is a bit of a messy affair. As it so turns out, like Logan’s father, Roman is not a particularly good cook, and when put together the two are more prone to...distraction. Logan helps Roman scrape the burnt remains into the trash can while Dad and Patton call a local Vietnamese place.

“So, ah, Logan,” Roman says nervously as the two of them pile crusted dishes into the sink. “We’re planning on announcing this at dinner, but I wished to tell you personally. He smiles, but it isn’t his usual boastful grin. “Janus and I...your father and I are—”

“Involved in a romantic relationship?” Logan interrupts, looking wryly at the adult as he turns on the sink.

“Yes, I—” Roman cuts himself off mid-sentence. “Wait, you _knew_?”

“Neither of you are particularly subtle,” Logan comments offhandedly as he wipes off the counter with a slightly damp sponge. “Which, that is saying something, considering I am not particularly fluent in understanding human relations.”

“Oh.” Roman blinks. “Ah. Well then.”

“I do not object, if that is what you are worried about,” Logan responds. “As ‘extra’ as you may be, you make my father happy, no matter how much he attempts to deny it.”

“Really?” Roman smiles, and it’s soft and warm as opposed to his normal big, brilliant grins. “I’m glad to hear that, kid.”

“I am _not_ a kid,” Logan protests, but Roman ruffles his hair (the habit must run in the family) and walks off, whistling jauntily.

Once Virgil and Remus return with take-out, dinner follows similarly, full of all manners of banter and quips. Logan has never been much of one for small talk, but conversation flows surprisingly easily. Roman, Virgil, and Remus almost devolve into a food fight over analysis of the _Nightmare Before Christmas_ , but Patton hastily steps in and reveals the cake that he baked for the occasion, and all parties compromise on singing “Happy Birthday” as loudly and irritatingly as they can.

Armed with copious amounts of cake and ice cream, the six make their way into the living room to watch a couple movies. Logan’s father sputters as Roman drags him into his lap, and Patton’s dad and Uncle Remus sit by them on the couch, so Logan and Patton sit together on the ridiculously oversized armchair in the corner of the room.

“Spill anything and you get to clean it up,” Dad threatens Remus when he gets a little too reckless with his plate of dessert during the first movie.

“Anyone want popcorn?” Roman questions as he stands and stretches in between the first and second movie.

“Stop trying to tickle your brother, _mahal_ ,” Virgil chides when Remus starts to get fidgety during the particularly fluffy movie Patton chose.

Logan says nothing, but when Patton lays his head on Logan’s shoulder halfway through the next movie, his chest and cheeks feel oddly warm.

The movie after that is Roman’s choice, and it’s an incredibly cheesy soulmate romance. It’s an extremely awkward choice, considering most of the people in the room aren’t involved with their soulmates—and, of course, Logan doesn’t even have one to be involved with.

But the movie reminds Logan of the possible revelation he and Patton shared just the week before, and apparently he isn’t the only one.

“Pa,” Patton calls across to Virgil, “did I tell you? Logan and I might be soulmates.”

Remus drops his popcorn. Logan’s dad is too busy gaping at the two teens to scold him for it.

“W-what?” Patton’s dad manages, his voice octaves higher than it typically sounds.

“Yeah! Right, Lo?” Patton glances at Logan for a moment, grinning, before he turns back to look at the adults. “So, so we were born in the same hospital on the same day, right? We were in the nursery together! Same place, same time! Since nobody saw for sure whether Logan’s timer read zero right when he was born or not, we think it might be because we met in the nursery or passing in the hall or something.”

“ _You_ think,” Logan interjects weakly. “There is no way to know for certain.”

“That...would actually make a degree of sense,” Patton’s dad says mildly.

Maybe it does. But it also does not. There are so many variables involved—so many possibilities...there is no way for this to be confirmed as fact.

“Aww, how romantic would that be?” Roman coos.

Logan flushes cherry red. Why are they all discussing this so openly?

“So you met your soulmate...as a baby?” Logan’s father asks, eyebrows raised as he contemplates the notion. “Considering we never officially confirmed that he was born with the zero, it could theoretically be possible.”

Logan grits his teeth.

“Yeah! It would just be so cool if it turned out we had been soulmates all along, wouldn’t it? What do you think, Lo?” Patton turns to look at him, smiling, and Logan just can’t take it anymore.

“I don’t care!” Logan finally bursts out.

Patton looks like he’s been punched in the gut. “You...don’t?” he asks, his voice hollow and his eyes dangerously watery, and Logan realizes all too late how his words can be misconstrued.

“Wait—no, that isn’t—” Logan hastily tries to correct, desperately trying to catch Patton’s eye, but Patton looks down. “I don’t mean that how you think I do.”

“How do you mean, it, then?” Patton sniffles.

Patton’s father looks about ready to murder him, but Logan’s dad murmurs something in his ear and decidedly steers the other three adults out of the living room.

Standing up from the armchair, Logan takes a deep breath. This is not at all how he expected the night of their birthday to go. He’d been hoping he could keep these feelings held close to his chest, so that he might figure out what, exactly, they mean, but.... “Patton, I feel very strongly about you. I—emotions are not my strong suit, so I do not know if it is romantic, or platonic, or something else, but...I do. And...regardless of whether we are actually soulmates or not, I....” Logan steels himself for his next words.

“I would like to remain by your side.”

Logan looks at Patton’s surprised expression, and he wants to run and hide. “If you will have me, that is,” he adds, fidgeting with his glasses. He slides them off, so he won’t have to see the rejection in Patton’s eyes, and he lowers them to the hem of his shirt, wiping furiously at the lenses.

Patton is quiet.

Logan knows it’s illogical, he does, but he feels like he has to fill in the silence, to stave off whatever Patton’s reaction will be. He knows what cognitive dissonance is, and he knows that he’s overthinking, but he can’t seem to stop.

“I just,” Logan stops, then starts. As he stares down, the lenses start to look even blurrier. No, no, _no_. He blinks furiously. “I do not want to forge our relationship solely on the concept that we might be soulmates.”

“Oh, Logan, no,” Patton murmurs, finally speaking up again. “If we’re soulmates, then I think that’d be neat! But that isn’t the only thing our relationship would be based on, honey. It would just be like a cool little add-on.”

Something cool touches Logan’s face—Patton’s fingers. They gently tease him into looking up and meeting Patton’s intent eyes. A second hand grasps his, taking his glasses and sliding them back into place on his face.

“It doesn’t matter if we’re soulmates or not,” Patton says softly yet stubbornly, his cheeks darkened slightly, “because I like you either way. Either way I feel the same for you, Logan.” He blinks slightly watery eyes. “I don’t know what this is, but maybe we can figure it out...together?”

Logan nods mutely.

“Can I hug you?” Patton asks carefully.

Again, Logan nods.

Patton slowly crowds into Logan’s space, and just like in the past, somehow his presence is welcoming, not oppressing and claustrophobia-inducing, unlike when their classmates shove by in the halls.

Patton takes him into his arms, and Logan _falls_.

Holding Logan close, Patton awkwardly sits the two of them back down on the armchair, half in each others’ laps, arms around shoulders and waists, legs tangled with legs, faces tucked into shoulders. Their breaths are silent and quick, their eyes watery but not quite crying.

Logan isn’t sure how long they sit like that before he becomes aware of a buzzing sensation in his arm. He makes a jolting motion as if to separate slightly from Patton, who quickly lets him.

“Apologies,” he murmurs. “My arm seems to have fallen asleep.”

Patton laughs. The sound is choked. “Yeah, my leg’s all buzzy and tingly too,” he admits, kicking out his legs a bit.

A rustling noise sounds behind them. Logan turns to see his father, Roman, Patton’s dad, and Remus piled in the doorway to the living room. Dad at least has the grace to look sheepish at being caught, but the others don’t even try to hide the fact that they’ve been eavesdropping.

“’S it safe to come back in?” Remus asks. “No war zones or anything? Nobody that needs fighting to the death?”

“None,” Logan confirms.

“Good, because I want to finish my movie,” Roman declares, striding into the room.

The four adults re-situate themselves on the couch once more, and everything resumes almost exactly as it had been before.

Dad, sitting the closest to Logan and Patton on the armchair, scrutinizes the two while the other three adults become immersed in the movie once more. “All good, son?” he finally asks, so quietly that Logan almost thinks he’s imagining the words.

Is all truly good?

Logan doesn’t know. Just like he doesn’t know if Patton is his soulmate, just like he doesn’t know how things are going to be now. But like Patton said, they can figure it out together. It’ll take time, but they have time, no matter what the timers on their wrists read.

Logan nods.

“All good.”

* * *

Logan does not have a soulmate. Or maybe he does. He doesn’t know.

All he knows is the zero that has been on his wrist since before he can remember. All he knows is the time that had run out, or so people have always told him. But perhaps...perhaps it isn’t that the timers count down to an ending. Perhaps they count down to a beginning. And perhaps, in having an ended timer, or in having no timer, or in whatever the zero on his wrist means—perhaps this means he gets to decide when his beginning is, not fate.

Logan does not have a soulmate. Or maybe he does. Who knows?

What he knows to be fact, however, is that he is a Logan, and he has a Patton, and they have all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Good lord, how did this end up at nearly 8k???
> 
> There's been lots of Logan so far, but I promise we're gonna see the characters more. Stay tuned tomorrow to see some DLAMP (with background Rem^2), and then after that I'm thinking of something involving Patton and either Janus or Remus. That's about all I have planned of this month lmao
> 
> Come screech at me in the comments or on [Tumblr](https://jowritesthingss.tumblr.com/) or wherever you’d like! Just preferably don’t track me down and screech at me in person, I have social anxiety and I will cry.


End file.
